


Deathly Dreams

by Sorokie



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst, Coma, Comfort, Dreams, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Give Héctor a hug please, Héctor is a good dad, Nightmares, The Final Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 17:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19835305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorokie/pseuds/Sorokie
Summary: Héctor has just seen the last of death. He slips into a world of nightmares and dreams, though he's not sure which. Little does he know that he survived the impossible and now his family waits for him to awaken.





	1. Imelda

Héctor didn't understand where he was.

He remembered briefly as golden shutters racked his body. The faint sounds of someone shouting unrecognizable words filled his head. A bony hand cradled his cheek, as lips lowered to meet his until—

 _Imelda_.

Héctor shot up with wide eyes, covers flying in the process. His heart pounded against his chest as if it were hammering its way out. He scanned frantically around the room for the fierce woman, breath slowing as he caught sight of a figure.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, which swayed in unison with the warm breeze that broke the boundaries of the room, revealing forth a young woman with hair braided to her side. She glowed as she hummed softly what sounded like La Llorona, hands sewing together a small peachy dress ever so gracefully. The woman did not seem to notice him, until her focus shifted onto Héctor, eyes widening and letting out a surprised gasp.

“ _Dios mío Héctor_ , you scared me to death! I didn't know you were up.”

A clumsy smile formed at the end of his lips, words coming out in a stutter.

“I uh— yeah. Yeah, I guess I am huh.”

Her eyes shifted downwards, eyes softening with adoration as her hand came to rest on top of a small bump.

“ _Good_. I'm going to need your _músico_ skills in the morning when this _little one_ arrives.”

Wait, _what_?

That's when he saw it. This wasn't the full skeletal version of his wife that he only saw moments ago before his death.

This was a fully _well_ and _alive_ Imelda.

Not to mention a very _pregnant_ one.

Ok, _ok_. _Don’t panic_. Just _stay calm_. What do we do? Is _this_ what the final death is? Héctor wasn't very good at thinking logically _especially_ when you're supposed to be completely, totally dead.

His hand reached out, attempting to grab onto something before meeting air. Héctor let out a yelp before stumbling forward and falling face flat on the floor. He managed to bring a fortress of blankets too as he struggled to break out of their cozy grasp. He blew a straw piece of hair out of his face and looked up in awe, mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

Of _course_ the first thing that came out of his mouth would make him mentally _slap_ himself.

“You’re _breathtaking_.”

 _Curse_ him for being his goofy self. _Curse_ him that he married such a beautiful woman.

Imelda blinked at him a couple times, clearly off taken by his sudden charm. The corner of her lips curled, trying to compose herself -- but it was no use. The pressure in her cheeks grew until a small snort escaped before erupting into full fits of laughter. Héctor, as much as he loved making her laugh, he was _dying_ of _embarrassment_. His blush seared through his cheeks and for a minute he thought his face was on fire.

Imelda, however, was now leaned over slapping at one her legs before letting out a grunt. Héctor heard her sharply intake a breath and immediately raised up onto his feet towards her. She raised a hand out towards him, waving off his concern.

Imelda chuckled lightly before wiping away tears that brisked her vision. “ _Ay_ —ow, alright, _alright_.” She rubbed at her swollen belly. “I agree, your Papá is _quite_ the charmer. He’s hopeless without me.”

Héctor had to smirk at that. “ _Hey_ , I'm not _that_ hopeless. Besides, how can I not be a mess with my two wonderful girls?”

It was Imelda’s turn to blush. Her gaze caught Héctor’s and he swore that he fell in love all over again. Those beautiful brown eyes are a million hues. They possessed the sternness of a hardworking woman. There was a love that burns there too, the sort that goes for an eternity.

“You really think it's a she?”

Héctor beamed. “ _Oh_ , I _know_ it's a she. Trust me, she's gonna be one amazing girl just like her Mamá.”

Imelda sighed. “I hope you're right,” she paused for a second, a smile forming. “No, I know you’re right.” She gestured over for Héctor to come near her.

She stared up at him with waiting eyes. He made his way over, eyes moving back and forth around confusingly before shyly shrugging his shoulders. She sighed and rolled her eyes, bringing her hand up towards him. He was surprised to feel her warm hand cupping his cheek, guiding him down towards her bump.

“ _Idiota_ , come listen. She's kicking.”

Hesitantly, Héctor pressed his head against Imelda’s belly.

 _Towards Coco_ he realized.

His hand found itself on top of Imelda’s, squeezing slightly as they both waited patiently for her to make her grand appearance. His heart stopped when he felt a small kick right where his and Imelda’s hands were placed.

_Oh. This was cruel._

Héctor didn't even know if this was real. Some sick way to remind him of all the times he missed being with Imelda, with Coco. Was it _so_ cruel to just want to be with your family? Héctor knew he didn't deserve it, but a part of him wanted to believe that they accepted him back. That everything was alright. That this was real.

His thoughts were broken when a forceful kick was brought up to his face. He pulled back, caressing his cheek where a sting lingered.

He let out a chuckle. “ _Ay_ , trying to kill me, eh? You really are like your Mamá you'll probably have her aim too…”

Imelda smacked him lightly, letting out a laugh of her own before shifting. She leaned down closer to Héctor whispering,

_“You're gonna be a great Papá.”_

Those words struck him, making his heart shatter into pieces.

No, he wouldn't.

He wouldn't _live_ to be Coco’s Papá.

All because of _him_.

He raised up slightly, wrapping one his arms around Imelda and let one of his hands linger on top of Coco. He buried his head deeper into Imelda’s neck, craving for her touch. His sobs were stifled at first as he attempted to hide his grief, then overcome by the wave of his emotions he breaks down.

_Please don't go._

She ran her hands through his hair, snaking down towards his back. The feeling made him shiver and he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His eyes felt heavy as she rubbed circles into his back, murmuring reassurance to him. He knew if he drifted off it would be over. It was as if death was giving him his final chance to say goodbye.

_This wasn't fair._

Everything was becoming lighter. Héctor felt himself falling back, slipping away from Imelda’s grasp. Something was pulling him down and desperately he tried to reach out towards her.

“—lease, don— _go_..!” He screamed, words coming out fuzzy.

Imelda only stared at him smiling. There was a sudden flash of golden light, making Héctor shield his eyes for a split second. Looking back up, she was now in familiar purple dress, staring him down with an evident hatred as skeletal bones held a tiny crying Coco in her arms reaching for him.

“— _melda_! _Coco_!”

She hissed out, heartbreak in her venomous voice.

_“You abandoned us.”_

“ _You're better off forgotten.”_

The world became hazy, growing more darker at the second. Orange glowing petals were floating along his side, attaching themselves to him. The images of Imelda and Coco were washed away as a ripple of water erased their faces from his vision.

 _It hurts_.

And Héctor blacked out.


	2. Chicharrón

They were gone.

That's all Héctor could think about. The fact that he failed his girls was slowly swallowing all his hopes and dreams.

Nothing lasts.

Not friends. Not love. Not the place you call home.

Héctor knew he wasn't anywhere anymore. He wanted to be somewhere else, but fate had other plans. Héctor never did get along with the rules, and so he's always tried to break them in order to grasp what he's been longing for.

Maybe...he should just fade away into oblivion here.

Maybe it was time to accept what he's been trying so hard to change. It's what everyone has been telling him to do in the first place. He mentally scoffed at that idea.

_Yeah Héctor, like you've got a choice_

He felt his weight shift downwards, his body connecting with something soft. He could make out the sound of objects clattering together. Slipping his eyes open, Héctor took in the place where he would come to for assistance for his schemes. It was like a second home for him, and it was the place where he would grieve.

“I didn't think I'd see your stupid face again, Héctor.”

The voice instantly made him want to curl up in a ball. It was as if a black mist had settled over him, laughing at Hector's thoughts that things couldn't get any more painful. He shifted his gaze over to his right, catching sight of a skeleton with a cowboy hat encased in junk.

“Chicharrón.” Héctor said, trying to keep himself from breaking.

“Ay, I'm surprised anyone even remembers that old name anymore. I'm surprised you're still here, Héctor.”

Héctor shrugged, giving a slight smile. “Yeah? Well, I guess you can't get rid of me that easily. I honestly don't know what's going on anymore.”

Chicharrón chuckled. “What do you expect, kid? You're not one to give up. For the past years you'd present such crazy ideas. Then you arrive at my place with a _living_ kid? You are full of wonders. No wonder you're here—”

“Wait. Wait, wait, _wait_ , _wait_ — you _knew_?!”

“Of course I did, anyone can see it if you look close enough. No skeleton that I've ever seen has that round of cheeks.” Chicharrón replied casually.

Héctor let out a frustrated sigh. “ _Ay_ , you've got to be _kidding_ me— was my makeup work _that_ bad?”

He shook his head. “Nah, you did well for what you had.”

Héctor watched Chicharrón push himself up out of his own personal sea. He stumbled forward, legs starting to give out beneath him. Héctor sprung into action, steadying the swaying man before he could hit the ground. Chicharrón mumbled a quick thanks before shoving off his supporting hand. Héctor watched him grab hold of his cane, his shaking starting to subside. He looked back towards Héctor, a smug smile evident on his face.

“Infact, your work was _so_ well you gave him your _estúpido_ face and your _músico_ thumb.”

Héctor’s jaw went slack with dumbfounded, slightly-resigned surprise.

Chicharrón raised a brow ridge at Héctor’s reaction. “What?” He turned, grabbing ahold of a tequila bottle. “You didn't realize he was related to you at _all_?”

Héctor stumbled over words. “I uh— _no_! Well, not until— how could I even—”

An uproar of hoarse laughter filled the air, and Héctor unconsciously shrank into himself.

“You're _kidding_ me, _Héctor_.”

Héctor only gave a small, cheeky smile which made Chicharrón groan and slap his forehead. “You're _such_ a _dunce_. If you would have stopped and _thinked_ for _10_ _seconds_ you would've seen the similarities— _ay_ _yai_ _yai_. Not to mention that you don't exactly run into _living_ children coincidentally and then take them on a journey.”

Héctor cracked a smile. “Ok, _ok_ — I get it, Cheech! I might have been a little—”

“ _Very_.”

“— _very_ oblivious, yes, but it was just a lot to take in. Plus, he could've been anyone's kid!”

Chicharrón snorted. “Whatever you say, chamaco. You guys make good use of my guitar?”

Héctor nodded. “Of course. We would've gotten first place but things went down, y’know? Sorry that I couldn't bring it back.”

Chicharrón waved him off. “ _Ay_ , it's fine. There would've been nobody to bring it back to anyways. I'm glad you made use of it.”

There was an abrupt silence and Héctor could only fiddle with his hands. He should've realized it sooner, huh? Cheech was right; it was _painfully_ obvious how similar he was to Miguel. If Imelda was here, she would've hit him with her boot and scold him on how stupid he'd been on not noticing the similarities or not asking enough questions.

“So—” Chicharrón’s voice brought him back to reality. “What relationship does he have to you? Grandkid?”

Héctor smiled, imagining Miguel's big grin. “Great- _great_ grandson, actually.”

“ _Ah_ , your one lucky man then to get a chance like that.” He smiled, tooth hanging out. “I can tell he's a good kid. He's just like how you described Coco to me.”

Héctor looked up to the ceiling, imagining the stage lights on them when they played Poco Loco together. He was just like Coco, upbeat and glowing with such a passion. He never realized how lucky he was. The fact that Coco was now all grown up and had children of her own, grandkids, great grandkids, and now great-great grandkids made his heart ache at all the things he missed.

“Yeah, he really is.”

“...And your wife, your child?”

Héctor’s smile fell. “She's still angry at me, hates me in fact, _but_..”

“ _But_?”

A smile made its way back onto Héctor’s lips. “Tonight was probably the closest I've _ever_ been to her in _years_.” His eyes sparkled as he looked back to Chicharrón. “She sang and she still sounds as beautiful as she looks. She looked at me so intently like the way she looked at me walking down the aisle on our wedding day and sang “ _No dejaré de quererte_.” I.. if I had a heart it would've exploded. Then she called me the _love of her life_?! Just—”

Héctor sighed loudly. “She makes me un poco loco. More than a little.”

Chicharrón shook his head. “Kid, you're _crazy_ in love. The things you would do to get her attention when I was around was _loco_. I'm happy that you're starting to find peace.”

Héctor grinned at him. “Well, I did point at Imelda and said to Ernesto, “ _One day she's gonna be my wife_.”

Chicharrón rolled his eyes. “ _Ay_ , I don't know how you managed to woo her, but I'm sure with your stupid stunts you can win her heart back.”

Héctor felt his chest tighten. “ _No_ , Coco forgot about me. I won't be winning anything anymore.”

“Are you sure she did? Are you sure you've been forgotten?”

Héctor considered the thought before he shook his head in disbelief. “Of course I am! What else could this be?”

“ _Yes_ , you might have been forgotten, but have you thought about how you could be still _hanging on_?”

Huh, he never did think about that possibility

“I–” Héctor started, “What are you getting at, Cheech?”

Chicharrón turned, but too slowly to be normal. When he speaks his voice trails slowly.

“Promise me something, Héctor.”

Héctor straightened, leaning forward slightly to listen eagerly for his request. There's a sadness in his eyes, one that immediately shifts into somber the moment they catch each other's gaze.

“Promise me that you'll never stop fighting for your life, for Imelda, for Coco, or for that great-great grandson of yours. Don't ever lose sight of that light, the one I've seen in you since I first came to the Land of the Dead.”

Héctor’s eyes fixed with Chicharrón, radiating his love for his family. “ _I promise_ I won't lose sight. I'll keep fighting.”

Chicharrón’s eyes softened. “Good. That's what I like to hear.” He reared up his cane and jabbed Héctor slightly, making him flinch. “If you break that promise, I’ll come back from the final death myself and break your skull.”

Héctor shivered at the thought of that. He already had to deal with Imelda’s shoes being thrown in his direction for the past century. He wasn't about to deal with canes either.

“ _Well_ —” Chicharrón shifted towards a barrel behind him, fiddling with something Héctor couldn't make out. “It's time for me to go.”

What was this sinking feeling again? Why was he hurting so much?

“What?” Héctor asked, starting to feel a phantom lump build in his throat.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

He _did_. He just wished it didn't have to be this way. He wished he could save him.

He picked up two shot glasses and held out one to Héctor. With shaky hands, his vision focused in and out on it, the pain from earlier resurfacing. Héctor forced himself to take hold of the glass, watching the liquid swish back and forth. Something wet rolled down his cheek, and he wasn't a stranger to know what it was.

Héctor smiled at Chicharrón, attempting to surpass a choked sob.

“Let's meet again in the next life.”

 _I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo_.

Chicharrón began to glow golden, the strong aura brightening near his marks. Their glasses moved closer together. His entire body started to break away into iridescent darkness. The air grew thick with the golden dust as it swirled away.

Chicharrón chuckled and his eyes slide shut.

“Yeah, I'll be waiting.”

 _Salud_.

Their glasses clinked and then Héctor’s was met with nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long! I had some major setbacks with this chapter. It was originally going to be Ernesto, but it's a struggle to figure out his mindset. I think it was appropriate to add Chicharrón in here since he supported Héctor during his time in the Land of the Dead. I hope I did our amigo justice! I guess you can figure out who's going to be next! ;D The next chapter will be out way faster. Infact, it's almost finished! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and thank you so much for all your feedback! <3


	3. Ernesto

Hector’s glass hovered in the air, trembling along with his grip. He exhaled sharply, trying to process what just happened.

Imelda and Coco, they seemed real but weren't. He thought Chicharrón was just part of a dream at first but he seemed so... _real_.

Chicharrón was taken by the final death the first time when him and Miguel went to borrow his guitar. Now it's taken him a second time as well.

Or was it just a way to pass along message?

Héctor pinched the bridge of his nose with his freehand. _Dios_ , if he _ever_ makes it out of this maze he's going to need Imelda to hit him with her shoe and _a lot_ of counselling.

He slowly brought the glass closer to his mouth, hesitating to ingest the liquid. Alcohol _did_ leave a sour taste in his mouth after he found out he was poisoned.

No. He had to trust Chicharrón. He wouldn't do something like that. After all, it would be disrespectful to turn away his offering after he had just experienced the final death.

He quickly gulped down the drink, pushing back the fowl memory of that night.

Setting down the glass upside down on the barrel, Héctor made his way towards the door.

“Leaving so soon, amigo?”

Héctor shielded his eyes as a bright light engulfed him, transforming the broken down shack into one of a familiar roofing where he had faded away in Imelda’s arms. He scanned the area and found himself seated in a chair with someone staring him down on the other side of a small table.

Héctor’s breath hitched as his throat clenched; he struggled to inhale, exhale, to do anything. A wave of cold washed over him at the familiarity in the voice, one that he was hoping to _never_ hear from him again. He gritted his teeth in an effort to remain silent, his stare exuded an animosity that was like acid.

“ _Ernesto_.” Héctor spat out.

Ernesto only smirked at him, head resting on top of his hands. He turned his gaze towards the edge, looking out at empty seats where the Sunrise Spectacular would've taken place.

“Beautiful view, isn't it? It's nice to see you too, _old friend_.”

Héctor scoffed at his attempt at a civil conversation. “Oh yeah, it's _great_ to see the place where everything ended for you. What, do you expect me to be _overjoyed_ to see you again?”

Ernesto only shook his head, letting out a weak chuckle. “No, not at all. But if I exist here, then a part of you wanted me to see me.”

Héctor winced and overwhelming sadness sat in his eyes. He was right. He did want to see Ernesto, but _not_ this one. Not the one who destroyed him and his family.

With such clumsy, tripping feet, him and Ernesto would always scramble towards their secret hiding spot, letting out loud and proud gritos after pulling off impossible schemes. Ernesto was always getting Héctor into trouble, but then again, just as easily getting him out of it. He was _terrible_ at playing, but Héctor put his heart and soul at helping Ernesto pursue his dreams. When things got rough in life, they always vowed to be there for each other. They laughed together, got mad, and grieved.

He wanted his best friend back.

Ernesto sighed, his eyes not quite meeting Héctor’s. “I had family. Well, I wouldn't consider them that anymore— you know that. After realizing I could be more than their punching bag I sought out my _own_ family, my _own_ dreams. I met you and I finally found someone that I could relate to, you became like the hermano I never had.

“You made me chase after a dream I wasn't even sure I wanted. Not to mention you _murdered_ me for it. Apparently you decided that fame and words on a page mattered more than your own _best friend_.” Héctor countered.

“I didn't _want_ to kill you.” Ernesto’s expression twisted. “You were the _only_ family I had, but you left me with no other choice. I did what I had to do even if it turned me into a monster. _You_ wanted the dream. The only reason you didn't seize it was because you let your wife define who you were.”

Héctor defensively straightened at the mention of Imelda.

“ _You_ were the one who went off and abandoned _me_. You went off and married the mess of a woman and had that sad excuse for a _child_.”

Héctor practically threw himself up, slamming his hands downwards making the table rattle in place.

“ _Don’t_.” Héctor hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t _ever_ speak that way about them.”

Ernesto shot a glare at him, unfazed at his outburst. “Why do you still care for them when they don't care about you? What makes you think they'll forgive you, that they'll take you back?”

“You're wrong. They do care.”

Ernesto leaned forward challenging Héctor’s answer.

“Am I? I've been there and tried that, Héctor.”

To Héctor, it wouldn't matter if they didn't welcome him back. That wasn't the point. He only wanted his family to be happy. If that meant he had to be forgotten then so be it. However, if he was still hanging on and Imelda was there waiting for him, then he had to _try_ to go home.

He loved them. He couldn't leave them behind.

Think about what Cheech said, Héctor. _Don't break it now_.

Héctor slowly lowered himself back to his seat.

“What _happened_ to you, Ernesto?” Héctor managed to ask, voice barely coming above a whisper.

Ernesto huffed. “Nothing happened to me. I just reflected what you’d expect, so you wouldn’t suspect that I could be exactly who I am. You were just so in denial and clingy that you couldn't get the truth past your thick skull.”

He was right. Even Imelda would tell him she didn't get good vibes from Ernesto. There was always a tension in the air whenever the two would cross paths or when Héctor would speak of his family. He was denying it because he didn't want to lose anyone else.

Oh how he wished it never came to this, how he wished he listened to Imelda.

“Let me tell you something.”

Ernesto picked up a glass, swirling it around in one hand, gaze stuck to the red liquid viciously spinning within it.

“There are three kinds of eyes. The first kind are alive eyes, the ones that light up and become as shiny as glass, reflecting a personality, an emotion.

“The second kind are dead eyes. Hollow and dull, as lifeless as the body to which they belonged. And the third…?” Ernesto paused, stilling the glass in his hand. His eyes flicked up from the glass and met with Hector’s, something dark overshadowing them.

“Are alive people’s eyes right as you kill them.”

Héctor couldn't surpass the shiver he felt run down his spine. He shifted his gaze over to the edge, his uneasiness being confirmed.

If he had a heart it would've stopped.

A boy dressed in an all familiar red hoodie stood at the edge, tips of shoes slightly hanging off. The wind rustled his hair and clothing with his back facing towards Héctor. There was no mistaking him.

“That's the kind of eyes I saw when I almost killed that great-great grandson of yours.”

Héctor whipped his head back towards Ernesto. Héctor could see he was glowering at Miguel.

“When he antagonized me, I could hear the passion in his voice in an attempt to intimidate me. But the moment I grabbed ahold of him, he trembled like a newborn kit.”

Héctor was on the edge of his seat. The air is so brittle it could _snap_ , and if it doesn't, then Hèctor might.

Ernesto laughed, voice cracking. “The _best_ part was when I threw him off this building, and _boy_ —” He paused, raising his glass above Miguel’s figure.

“What I wouldn't give to see his eyes blow out like a candle again.”

“Except this time to hear a _thud_ as he hits the ground.” Ernesto tipped over his glass, slowly pouring the red liquid out, splattering against the ground.

As if it was _Miguel’s_ blood.

That was all it took for Héctor burst out of his seat and run towards Miguel. He laid his hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly.

Héctor shook Miguel lightly. “Mijo, hey.”

“ _Papá_?”

That wasn't a voice he expected.

A burst of pain erupted in his head, making Héctor clutch his skull.

“ _—apá? what's—_ ”

It was a voice of a girl, one he hadn't heard from in years. He’d recognize her childish chirp anywhere.

His vision blurred as he tipped over off the edge. He could make out a blur of colors exploding with a loud boom and ringing through the night. There was a small mass of red and blue falling down with him as they both tumbled towards their fate.

No _no no— Héctor panicked. He couldn't have brought Miguel down with him._

_"It's oka—Pá—! Co—"_

Héctor turned upwards, catching a blur of white looking down at them.

“ _Apologies old friend, but the show must go on.”_

_Please no. He couldn't leave now. Héctor reached around frantically trying to grab hold onto any part of Miguel, to shield him. He— he's here. He can't let him die. He has to send him home. He has—_

Something small and warm pressed against his cheekbones, turning them back into flesh from his earlier dream. The voice started out as a young boy and turned into the little girl’s from before.

“What's wrong Papá?! I didn't mean to make you cry. I promise it's okay Papá!—”

“Coco is here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a hard chapter to write, but i'm pretty happy with the results! A very dark chapter, indeed. Hopefully I'm doing these characters justice in terms of writing. It was very interesting to explore Ernesto's mindset and his relationship to Héctor. Oh, and of course gotta leave ya on a little cliffy. ;P
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated. :D


	4. Coco

He failed Miguel. His _Papá_ didn't get him home. He left his family behind _again_.

Héctor let out an anguished cry. Oh _dios_ , he couldn't protect his _mijo_ he couldn't protect his family.

Not again. _Please_ , not again.

Something warm pressed against his cheeks, swiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. He squinted through blurred vision, trying to make out what was so comforting. Héctor’s sobs had slown, as if the figure in front of him had cured him of all his sorrows and doubts.

It was a female, a very small one. He heard her voice earlier, calling out to him, singsong and high pitched. What did she say her name was? No, he didn't need her to say her own name to know exactly who she was.

He would always recognize his own daughter.

_His Coco._

Coco patted his face affectionately. “Are you better now, Papá?”

Héctor just stared at her with wide, glassy eyes, more tears threatening to spill over at any second. Instead he moves forward, the guitar that was resting in his grasp slips out and clatters against the floor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, letting her rest his atop his shoulder. He felt Coco sank into his arms further, and that was the que for Héctor to squeeze a little tighter.

He knew he didn't deserve this. After everything that happened? He shouldn't feel this joyous, but he couldn't help the rising hope in his chest.

For once his future seemed a little less bleak.

Héctor hesitantly pulled back, wiping away at his eyes. He let out a small chuckle. “Sí, mija. I'm so sorry. I'm a Papá, I shouldn't cry.”

Coco shook her head, braids flying fiercely. “ _Nu-uh!_ Coco cries all the time. You and Mamá make me feel better when I'm sad.” She paused standing up on the bed, bumping her fist against her chest. “Let me make you feel better. You can cry all you want!”

Héctor smiled, bumping his fist against his own chest to mirror Coco’s. “Alright then! Looks like it's a promise, mija.”

Coco’s smile grew wider. “Mmhm! So Papá?”

“Hmm?”

“What made you so sad?”

Héctor pulled himself upwards to sit next Coco, in which she gladly shuffled over to give him more space.

“I had a dream and it scared me.”

Coco tilted her head. “Why?”

Héctor lowered his gaze to the floor. “In my dream I had to go somewhere far away and it was _so_ far I wasn't gonna be able to see you again.”

Hector felt the world change around him, the air became more cool like a summer night in the plaza. He didn't think in the moment and ran forward, marigold petals flying out from beneath his Rivera shoes.

“Everyone forgot about me! I tried, I _tried_ so _hard_ to find you again, no matter how broken I became—no matter how many times I was pounded into dust—”

Héctor’s knees collided with the ground, smashing some of the marigolds in the way. He buried his head in his hands, sobs coming out uncontrollably.

“I was so _lonely_ and _sad_ and _no one_ understood how I _felt_. I started to think all my memories of you were just _things_ I made up. I thought I was going crazy I—”

A stronger pair of arms that mirrored his Imelda's gripped his shoulders, pulling him towards them. Héctor raised his gaze, gasping at the sight before him.

Long black hair were locked in braids, a slim and round figure just like wife. Her eyes were bright just like when a musician performed, staring back at him, reflecting his own.

This had to be her.

His daughter had grown into such a beautiful young lady.  
  
And he _missed_ it.

“You're right Papá, that does sound awful.”

She closed her eyes and gave a fond smile, tightening her grip on Hector’s shoulder. “But it's okay now, _really_. I'm not going anywhere, especially if it was so far away I couldn't see you again. I'd never do something like that and neither would you.”

But Héctor did. He did leave her behind.

_You're Papá was just trying to come home._

“You wouldn't? But _how_ —” Héctor started, “how can you be so sure?”

She giggled and pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around him. “You know how _wimpy_ I am. If I did anything that makes someone as strong as you cry like this? It would break my heart.”

Héctor shook, eyes widening at her words. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “It would _break_ your heart?”

“Of course it would. I'd hate to leave you and Mamá.” She started, smoothing her hand down Hector’s hair. “Or Elena or Victoria. Julio, Rosita, and the twins. Even my living family—”

“My _Miguelito_.”

 _Wait_. How did she—

“I wouldn't go if I couldn't see you guys again. I know I don't have the courage to do something like that— even if I didn't have a choice.”

A bright light shone and engulfed him and Coco, igniting the world anew with such brilliance. It's bright rays reflected the brilliant gold of the marigold field.

What was this feeling again?

Ah, _realization_.

He hurt everyone. He hurt her. Everyday Coco has been living in pain because of _his_ mistakes. She wouldn't ever leave him, she always waited for her Papá to return to her.

He should've never left home.

Héctor squeezed his eyes shut, tears glistening in the newfound light. “You're right. I knew you wouldn't. I knew it would hurt you more than anything. But still—”

“How could I have been so stupid?!”

A light breeze stirred the field around them, causing them to break out as if they were dancing with a song.

“ _Papá_.”

Héctor felt the back of his shirt being gripped tighter.

“I want you to know that when the time comes and you have to make a hard decision, you _will_ have the courage to make it.”

The marigolds around them halted in place all at once. The orange glow in them dulled, and the petals drooped, flowing down to the ground.

“One day you will find out there are things only _you_ can do, and then you'll know just how _strong_ and _kind_ you really are.”

The base of the marigolds lit up, becoming feather-like flowers. The light of the flowers continued to grow before flowing upwards into the sky, as if a thousand wishes were just made.

“ _Trust me_ Papá, I _know_.”

Héctor chuckled. He could hear the change in her voice again. This time from her sweet, rich voice to a more withered and breathy sound.

You would think it would be all wrong, but somehow it sounded just _right_.

Héctor pulled back, gripping Coco’s shoulder, which felt so much thinner. He didn't raise his head, he didn't want to see his little girl dead yet.

“I know there's a chance that you might just be an illusion, or a fake version of you that my mind has created—”

“How else could we see each other like this? Does it even matter?” He choked out.

He shook slightly before raising his head, catching the shape of a newly polished skull covered in colorful markings shaped like his own and Imelda’s.

“It does to me.” Héctor smiled and tilted his head to get a better look at his little girl. “I can tell you're the _real_ Coco.”

“Your here and I can talk to you and feel your kindness one more time, and I'm _so_ _happy_.”

Hector’s hands slipped down her boney arms and towards her hands, in which she gladly allowed him to take into his own. They gripped onto each other, not willing to let the other go.

“ _Thank you_. I couldn't have asked for anything that would make me happier than I am right now. I love you so much, mija.”

Coco smiled, shaking her head. “ _No Papá_ , thank you for always pushing yourself for me, for our family. Never forget how much _I_ love you, how much your _family_ loves you.”

“I promise you'll go home, Miguel and I have made sure of it. I'll never forget you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hectors getting closer and closer to waking up! There's about 1-2 chapters left of this story, and boy has it been a blast! I'll most likely have them out by the end of the week (possibly next week) since I'll become very busy soon. Dont worry! I'll still be writing. I tried to go more calmer since Héctor is moving more towards reality.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Your comments and feedback really do help me! :D <3

**Author's Note:**

> There needs to be more nightmare stories, lol. This was originally going to be a oneshot, but it would've been too so long so lucky for you all, I've decided to make it into a short story. I'm not sure how long, but some tags will change or be added depending how I write out the ending. I'm excited though! 
> 
> Feedback or ideas in general are always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and of course thank you for the kudos, comments, etc. they really mean a lot to me! :D <3


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